


Standing at the Park Entrance, Thinking

by Athena13



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Finally, Introspection, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 06:24:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athena13/pseuds/Athena13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian does some thinking…standing at a park entrance...about cancer, cigarettes, and a leather chair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Standing at the Park Entrance, Thinking

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2005. I had a few false starts before I finally figured out how this should go. Definitely was a challenge! Hope it pleases. 
> 
> Response to the B/M FQF Challenge: Remember in Season 1, after the birthday party from hell, Brian and Justin were eating ice cream after sex on Brian's chaise lounge chair. In this scene they talked about Michael and Justin said, "You must really love him." In Season 4 we saw Brian getting rid of (and Justin eagerly helping) his black leather chaise lounge chair by donating it to the house for HIV+/AIDS infected people. Write me the story about how this came about; did Justin demand Brian get rid of the chair after all this time, because every time he looks at it, uses it, etc., he's reminded of the time when after sex it was Michael on Brian's mind? As for the ending - take it wherever you want to go; does Brian confess to Michael about the events around the chair? Does he suffer in silence and stare longingly at the empty space his chair once was? Perhaps Brian was the one who wanted to get rid of the chair, because it was a constant reminder of a time when he almost lost Michael for good? (issued by Danielle)

It was a bright, sunny October day of Indian summer in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The kind of day that made you itch to toss work away and spend the day lazing in the grass of the many parks that dotted the urban landscape because you knew that the cold harsh winter was just around the corner. Brian Kinney was no different from any other city resident in that respect.

He was standing at his desk at the company he had built from scratch in the past year, piles of ad mock ups and invoices littered around him. He had a deadline, he always had a deadline, and he was rushing to meet it and still be able to ditch the office and enjoy the waning sunshine. He'd been doing that a lot more lately, taking time to enjoy himself. Ever since he survived cancer. There were, he surmised, perks to being the boss. There had to be, besides the fantastic office with the hot tub in his bathroom. And sizing up ad models.

"Go with this one." Brian handed off his chosen ad to the underling that was eagerly waiting for a compliment. Brian looked up when his employee didn't just scamper away. "Great work."

As soon as Chris was out of sight he rolled his eyes. He hated the touchy feely crap, but he was trying to be a better people manager. It felt like torture. Why couldn't people be happy with their paycheck and bonuses? But if he wanted the best he had to deal with the personalities, at least that's what Ted kept telling him. From the improvement in the quality of the work he'd seen lately, he guessed Schmidt was right about that. He might even tell him.

Torture over, Brian pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and pressed Michael's speed dial number  1.

"You ditching?" Was Michael's greeting.

"Yeah. You coming with?" Brian asked.

"Yeah. It's slow today. No one wants to be inside."

"Meet you at the usual place?"

"Yeah. Bye." Michael hung up.

Brian smiled and headed out. That was something else he'd been doing a lot more of lately  making time to spend alone with his best friend.

* * *

Surprisingly, Brian beat Michael to the park even though he had stopped at home to change in to jeans and a t-shirt. With time on his hands, Brian reached into the pocket of his brown leather jacket and took out his cigarettes. He pulled one out and put the pack back in his pocket. He looked at the white stick for a moment and then gazed out into the distance.

Kids were playing and couples were canoodling. The birds that hadn't begun their seasonal migration were doing dive bombs in front of the old people feeding them from the benches not far from the park entrance he and Michael had been calling their own for twenty years.

Brian looked back down at the white stick. The "cancer stick" as Michael had taken to calling it after Brian's own brush with the disease. A smile washed over Brian's features at the thought of Michael's scolding. Best friends could get away with the meddling no one else could. Not that there were many people that would ever have dared. Lord knows his own parents never had care enough to do so.

Brian put the stick in his mouth and lit it with his favorite Zippo lighter. It was one he had bought for himself after finishing radiation. He took a puff and blew the smoke into the air with an audible exhale.

If felt good, he admitted to himself, to have people that cared. Michael. Debbie. Emmett. Ted. Justin. Lindsay. Melanie. These were the people that were part of his adopted family. People who took the time to try and call him on his shit in their own unique ways. He was a hell of a lot better off with them than the people he shared blood with.

Brian took another drag.

He'd been thinking about his family a lot these days. His sister's birthday had been last month and it had taken him by surprise to realize that he hadn't spoken to her in over a year and he hadn't even noticed. Surprised, too, that his mother hadn't called him to remind him to send his sister money for her birthday and take the opportunity to tell him he was going to hell.

He didn't need them.

Brian finally had everything that he needed and it was more than he had ever wanted.

When he was a kid he only wanted material things. In sixth grade he come across the word "decadent" in his spelling workbook and it had resonated with him. Then he saw the definition and he knew that was what he wanted in his life. What he wanted his life to be about. He wasn't going to be like his parents  living from paycheck to paycheck and bitterly unhappy. He was going to have all the money he could earn and buy all the things he wanted.

As he got older the dream expanded to all the physical pleasures he could indulge in. White parties. Leather balls. Tricks. Whips. Drugs. Alcohol. Things he never even told Mikey about, but that Mikey knew anyway.

Buying the loft had been his first real step in fulfilling the dream. Then came the design and decoration of the loft. Natuzzi sofas. A state of the art entertainment system. A cutting edge kitchen he would never have to use except to store alcohol, coffee and drugs. A playground for a bedroom. A sexy bathroom planned for sex, as much as cleanliness. Long, smooth flooring. Borderline obscene art.

And a leather chair that fit his body like a lover's hand.

God, of all of it he had loved that chair most. His decorator had suggested he fill that part of the loft with something of his own choosing. He had dragged Michael from store to store for three weekends before he even thought of something leather. Black, to contrast the white couches. Silver metal to blend with the kitchen. Then another two weekends to find the perfect piece.

He hadn't actually seen the chair first. He had been hunting through the department when he spotted Michael spread out in its comfort with a look of bliss on his face. It was perfect. He didn't even bother to sit on it. He just told the salesperson to have it delivered and handed him a credit card.

Over the years he made sure the cleaning staff treated the leather and polished the metal. He never sat in it unless he had a trick over, but sometimes he looked at it. Always seeing Michael's blissful expression as the leather cupped his body.

Brian dropped the cigarette and ground it out with his Prada shoe. Michael was really late, probably stuck with some kid just as excited as he was about some comic. He stuck his hand in his jacket and grasped his cell phone. He wasn't in a rush to call, though. He tilted his head back and enjoyed the feel of the warm sun on his face. It was times like this he was glad to be alive in a way he could hardly express, even to himself. It was a feeling of well-being. As if some long battle had come to an end and he'd won. Brian snorted at his sentimental musings. They too had started to come more often than before, where before was practically never.

For reasons he couldn't fathom he suddenly had a memory of sitting naked in the chair with Justin feeding him melted ice cream. Talking about Mikey. God, that kid had balls, Brian remembered with a smirk.

_"God, you must really love him."_

Balls, but not much brains given there were a dozen of so twenty foot photos of Mikey still hanging around the loft. Given that Mikey was his best friend since practically before the blond was even a cum stain on his parents sheets.

It was the first time he had ever been willing to let Mikey go. He knew that Debbie was full of shit and he knew that David wouldn't last. But he also knew that in some way his being around Mikey was holding Mikey back, he just knew it wasn't for the reasons that everyone thought.

Michael wasn't waiting, as Ted and everyone accused, for Brian to fuck him.

Brian dropped the phone and pulled his hand out of his pocket. Suddenly antsy, Brian began to pace around.

Then he had gotten cancer and he had seen Michael's tears and knew he could never let go completely. He couldn't let himself die. He was still needed. Still loved.

He had seen Ted's concern.

Debbie's tears and determination.

Justin's tears.

Vic's ballsy truths in his nightmares.

Suddenly, the leather chair he had coveted as a symbol of all he had achieved no longer seemed so important and he had ordered Justin to take the chair to the hospice that had meant so much to Uncle Vic. Michael's uncle. His uncle, too.

Now, the most important thing was more than surviving, it was taking life by the balls in a way he never had before. In a way he hadn't had to since he had gotten out of his the hellhole his parents called home.

So, he'd gone to Canada to prove something that, for once, money couldn't buy. There was no decadence in that act. Though he had crossed the finish line with Mikey, there was still a line he hadn't been ready to cross. Brave enough to cross.

Brian stopped pacing and reached for his pack of cigarettes again.

"I wish you wouldn't smoke." Michael's voice interrupted Brian's hazy reverie.

"What took you so long?" Brian asked with a raised eyebrow as he slipped the pack back into his pocket.

"A customer came in."

"So you leave _me_ waiting?" Brian put his hand behind Michael's neck and tilted his head down so their lips were centimeters apart.

Michael laughed and bridged the distance. After a short kiss, Michael pulled away.

"You've left me waiting plenty of times. At least you're not freezing your ass off in the cold jeep waiting for me to get a blow job in a dirty alley." Michael rolled his eyes.

"Hey Mikey, remember my leather chair?"

"Uh huh." Michael sounded startled.

"Let's go shopping for something new to put in that space."

"Something decadent again?" Michael teased.

"Nah. Not this time."

"What do you have in mind?" Michael asked.

Brian rubbed his thumb over Michael's warm cheek.

"Something that would make you feel at home," Brian said quietly.

End


End file.
